


Of Clocks, Demons, Blue Flames, & Red Ribbons

by Meh (KrisTheCook)



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist, Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Akemi Homura is Half Demon, Akemi Homura is Mephisto Pheles' Daughter, Akemi Homura is Not a Magical Girl, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Being Homura Is Suffering, Gen, POV Akemi Homura, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Illness, Time Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-06-28 16:30:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19816135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisTheCook/pseuds/Meh
Summary: The universe has been rewritten. Witches no longer exist, but they are not the only darkness spreading creatures Assiah has to offer...Homura has awoken once more in her hospital bed, but this time there is no Madoka to save. No Walpurgisnacht to defeat. With Madoka no longer existing and not wanting wounds old and new to fester Homura decides to contact her father and request to skip into high school and attend True Cross Academy. However, Homura cannot continue life knowing that darkness besides witches taint Madoka's new world, so she hangs up guns for... different guns?Being meguca was suffering, how will being an exorcist pan out?





	1. After All is Said and Done

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [As N Approaches Infinity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3553727) by [Corisanna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corisanna/pseuds/Corisanna). 



> This fic is something that I have wanted for literal YEARS but have never found. I hope you enjoy, but heads up, I am not good at updating. As in, I have had this chapter on google docs for months and in that time the second chapter hasn't even reached halfway done.  
> This story will update, but not quickly. Sorry.  
> In other news, I have been heavily inspired by Corisana's "As N Reaches Infinity" (link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3553727 )

I open my eyes to see the ceiling of my hospital room yet again. Today is the day I get released.. again. Normally I would rush to get up and heal my eyes so I wouldn’t have to deal with poor eyesight. However, there isn’t a reason to rush anymore. Madoka doesn’t exist anymore, so I don’t have to rush to save the cat Madoka would make a contract with Kyubey to save. Madoka won’t be at school, helping the nurse or at home babysitting her brother. Her mother won’t remember ever having a daughter, and in a way she truly never had one to remember. 

I want to lay and stare at the sterile white ceiling until the universe swallows me whole. Likely, I would have gone through with the urge to wallow in negative emotions, but then I remembered my soul gem and how it had definitely darkened while my thoughts ran. Looking down at my left hand I was expecting to see a ring, but nothing was there. Just my hand. No purple diamond on my middle fingernail or silver ring with a small purple gem set in it. 

Once the shock wore off, I began to think. It would make sense that I am no longer (rather, never was) a magical girl since there was no Madoka for me to make my wish for thus making this timeline 1 version 2 in a way. Add to the fact that I would not, originally, meet Kyubey until after my “first” day of school when that witch would kiss me and pull me into its labyrinth. Added together it would be obvious that I am not a magical girl. Madoka gave me a fresh start… A chance to choose what to do now that she’s gone…

Madoka…  _ Her ribbons!  _ In my despair and confusion I had forgotten. Madoka gave me her ribbons while the universe was being rewritten. Shifting my attention to my other hand I found them. Red ribbons. Staring at them my vision begins to waver. It takes me a few seconds to realize I’m crying, and after realizing that, it’s all I can do to keep my sobs quiet so no one would enter to check up on me. I have seen Madoka die again and again and again in any number of ways, and while it  _ hurt _ then now it felt like my entire world was ripped away from me. Everything that I did and went through felt meaningless. 

Drowning in my sorrow and mourning for the lost existence of Madoka. It felt like I was falling into despair, seconds away from becoming a witch. I would normally do anything in my power to stop the descent, but what was the point? 

That’s when I felt something that was distinctly  _ Madoka _ . Magic, her magic, warm and gentle. Comforting. Just like the petit, pink haired girl. 

I lift my head that had fallen onto my knees that had curled close to chest during my breakdown. Nothing is different from when I woke up. There is no Madoka in the middle of my hospital room, but I still feel her magic in the air. My eyes drift to Madoka’s ribbons, still clutched in my hand, and at first glance nothing would seem amiss. Looking closely, however, I  _ see _ a pink glow surrounding them. Something I, by all means, should not be able to see. Especially since I’m not a magical girl. But, despite the impossibility, I do, and this remnant of Madoka calms me. Instead of drowning in a sea of despair I’m floating, and given time, I may be able to breach the surface. 

Having centered myself enough to stabilize I begin to think of what I should do now. It’s daunting. I went from doing everything in my power to reach a specific goal only to be stranded in a sea of possibilities. 

Short term. Set the groundwork and then begin building the foundation. Immediately I have my heart to worry about. Without being a magical girl my heart can give me a lot of trouble.  _ But it doesn’t hurt.  _ It should be; after that breakdown. Maybe Madoka had a hand in making my surgery more successful than it originally was. It would be the kind of thing she would do. In any case, I’ll have to be careful and work my body slowly until I’m more healthy. Then I can do more physically intensive things since I don’t want to stay weak. 

Next is school. My “first” day at Mitakihara Middle School is in about a week, but if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t want to go there. Madoka won’t be there and that will rub salt into a very fresh, open wound. However, that’s not the only reason. Sayaka Miki and Mami Tomoe will also be there. I care for both of them, but I couldn’t look them in the eye after everything. Killing both of them, as either witches or magical girls, and hurting them emotionally or physically in an attempt to help (mostly). There were also times that they nearly killed me (I vividly see Mami pointing her musket at me, tears in her eyes, Kyōko’s empty body on the train station floor. The aftermath of Sayaka’s very first witch transformation). They wouldn’t know any of that ever happened, and that makes it worse. Not to mention Kyōko will have no reason to leave Kazamino unless she and Mami ever make up, and I have many doubts about that ever happening. 

No, I can’t go there. That is clear, but what should I do instead? There aren’t any other schools in the immediate area, and not many would accept such a sudden transfer without reason. Especially due to the accommodations needed for my health.

Maybe Father would let me jump a few grades and join his school? There’s also the cram school…

_ That’s it! _ If Father lets me join his school then I would also have a long term goal to focus on! Madoka has gotten rid of witches, and whatever magical girls face now has to be better. If magical girls even exist at all (I’m not holding my breath on that thought). I can’t help them regardless, and I have no intention of selling my soul again. But Madoka can’t do anything about demons. I could help protect the people and world Madoka sacrificed herself for from demons. The cram school would also help me in becoming athletic (again). 

Mind made up, I decide to call Father once I was ready for the day, I stood up and lingered in front of the mirror I always looked into at the start of a new loop. There I see what I used to look like at the very start, but my eyes have hardened and my mouth is set in a permanent almost frown. 

I remove the bows keeping my hair in twin braids more on habit than anything else. Looking at the red ribbons in my hand I decided to use them to tie my hair into low hanging pigtails. My braids, my naivety, are still gone but so is the stone wall I built around myself after Madoka’s first death. I will still keep my shield up, but I’ll try to  _ live  _ in this life. That’s what Madoka would want (I could feel a small, answering hum of magic in her ribbons). 

With that (and an incident where I took off my glasses only to remember I can’t heal my eyes and thus put them back on) done I got dressed into a simple pastel purple hoodie and shorts. Grabbing my phone I sit on my hospital bed and go to my contacts. I hesitate once I reach my father’s number before steeling myself and tapping “call”. 

The phone’s rings reverberate in my ear for a few moments before it connects with a cheery “ _Hello_ ~” from Father. “ _What do I owe the honor for this delightful call_ _from you dearest?_ ” He continues immediately after. 

“I want to go to True Cross and become an exorcist,” is my, admittedly blunt, reply. 

“ _... What? _ ” I managed to shock him. Granted, last time we spoke I couldn’t say two words without stuttering. And while he may know someone was messing with time the feeling might be very vague due to the universe being rewritten and effectively erasing my time shenanigans. 

“I want to skip ahead to high school and attend True Cross as well as the cram school,” I reiterated since I don’t want to explain my reasons or change in attitude. 

“ _ Hmm. I will have to test you to make sure you can handle the curriculum, and your health will have to be monitored until it’s proven you can handle the physical aspect of the cram school. There is some time to get your stamina and strength up..., _ ” I hear Father mumble (was my hearing always so good?). “ _ If you’re certain about this I’ll test you tomorrow, and grade it right there. If you pass we’ll leave right then since all your things should still be in boxes if you haven’t unpacked yet. I will have to figure out something for the dorms, but there are a few options. As for the cram school… We’ll talk about that if you pass the test. _ ” It’s the best I’m going to get for now. Besides, I’m relieved that he didn’t ask any questions, for now at least. I don’t want to explain everything to him just yet (or ever, really). However, I know that I can’t keep it from him if only because I don’t want to pretend to be the meek girl I once was, but I can at least delay telling him I sold my soul to go galavanting through his domain. 

“I’m sure about this, and that works for me. I’ll see you tomorrow Father.” I hesitate slightly before adding a quick, “Thank you.”

“ _ Very well. See you tomorrow Homura dear, _ ” and with that the call ends. 

The call with my father over and done with, I grab the duffle bag that I packed yesterday (so long ago) that held the miscellaneous things that I used to occupy my time in the hospital as well as clothes and other hygiene products I had. There were books on demons, herbs, and the like that Father had given me (“No child of  _ mine _ will be ignorant of our world!”) along with some manga (some from Father and some from a few nice nurses). Since that was all of my belongings I went to the front desk to check myself out once again. From there I was on autopilot all the way to my apartment. 

* * *

I still end up saving the damn cat. Well, not  _ the _ cat that Madoka first wished to save. 

It is during my journey home I see them, gray fur with white paws and piercing yellow eyes, on the sidewalk. The cat was about to run into traffic when I grabbed it. Why did I stop them from getting hurt? Habit couldn’t be the answer since I don’t normally find Madoka’s cat on this street. Typically I lure them out of an alley on the other side of town, far from their destined meeting time with a truck. Afterward I would take them to a shelter so that they're not in danger of being run over (thus causing Madoka to contract). 

The cat is amazingly docile as I carry it away from the street, and clings to me when I try to set them down in a nearby alley. I glare at them after another failed attempt to detach them from my clothes. All I get in return is the cat equivalent of puppy eyes. 

“Alright Neko,” I sigh. “You win. I’ll bring you with me.” I could almost swear the cat grinned in triumph at that. 

* * *

Once I reach my house I open a window so that Neko (I guess that’s what I’m calling them) can come and go as they please. After that, and a bit of digging in the many scattered boxes, I set out a bowl of water with another bowl filled with pulled chicken I found in the pre stocked fridge for them. With Neko’s basic needs taken care of I leave them to their own devices. 

Other than the boxes, which had been moved in at some point, the place was a blank slate. Normally I would project information I felt was important for the timeline onto the walls, but that wasn’t needed (or possible) so instead I sat on the couch (that and a table the only furniture in the living area) and thought back to all I would need to know to take Father’s test. Despite only being in school for one endless month I learned the entire curriculum for my year and the next as well. I also have a high understanding of physics far beyond my grade.

You would think trying to stop a girl from making contract with an alien, hunting said alien, hunting witches, and (sometimes) doing homework would leave little free time. However, I managed to get enough that I decided to study ahead of the loop. I mostly did it for a piece of normalcy in the crazy my life had become, and it felt good to be ahead when I started so far behind. I was fairly confident I could pass his test and start high school early at True Cross. The truly difficult part will be getting into the cram school. 

Rather, getting in as painlessly as possible. Father may have ignored the elephant in the room while in the call, but when I pass the test he will want to know how I changed so drastically as well as why I’m suddenly interested in becoming an exorcist (I found the job scary before learning about witches and magical girls. Now I see it as just another normal, if slightly more dangerous, career path). I’ve already given up on the thought of keeping my shenanigans with time from him (I will, however, delay the inevitable for as long as possible), and when he hears he will either be amused at my ultimately fruitless endeavor or he will be furious at me for messing around in his domain regardless of the fact it technically never happened. 

It’s pointless to guess at how he will react when he can be chaotic and unpredictable even on his better days. Instead I’ll make a hot mug of tea and go to bed after drinking said tea. 

It’s when I’m about to put the mug in the sink after drinking some delicious tea (one of Mami’s recipes) that a noise startles me. In my shock the mug slips out of my hands and begins to fall to the floor. On instinct I reach into myself for my time manipulation, and to my surprise, I manage to grab  _ something _ similar. The mug stops in its descent while whatever I grabbed strains to keep it there. The grip loosens in my shock and the mug falls and shatters on the floor.

But.. That can’t be right… I can’t freeze time without my magical girl powers. And the room’s colors didn’t fade. It must have been my imagination. It’s late and I’m used to time following my command (to an extent). I should go to bed...

* * *

Waking up and going about my morning routine is easy enough. I realize it will take quite some time before I’m used to wearing glasses again (I nearly walked out of the bedroom before I realized my blurry vision was due to not putting on my glasses), but other than that, and giving Neko more food and water, it was like any other morning. However, the familiar routine is broken after breakfast. Normally I would head out for the day to stock up on weapons and ammunition then go witch or Incubator hunting. Today I sit on the couch waiting for Father to show up. 

Looking at the news feed to pass the time on my phone shows a small portion of the change Madoka brought to the world. Fewer random suicides and disappearances or deaths of young girls. It’s sad that the latter is still rather high. At least those girls are no longer racing to become the monsters they fight. I can take comfort from that. 

A knock on the door brings me out of my melancholy. ‘ _ It must be Father _ ,’ I think as I look the peep hole to make sure. That thought is quickly followed by ‘ _ Did he always look like that? _ ’ Wearing mostly white, and looking almost like a jester, my father gives a smirk as though he knows I’m looking at him (and he probably does). How many things faded during the loops? If I forgot what Father wears then what else could have slipped away unnoticed?

I toss those thoughts to the back of my head to be dealt with later (or never) as I open the door. My father’s mouth is stretched into a wide grin, and his eyes are monitoring my every move like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle. He very well could be doing so given my sudden (to him) change of attitude. 

“Please, come in,” I say blandly as I open the door wider. “Would you like anything to drink?” 

“I’m quite fine. Thank you dear,” is his reply as he enters; giving my head a small, but affectionate, pat. 

We’re both silent as we walk to the living area and take a seat. Father crosses his legs and looks around as if he will find anything other than unpacked boxes. Weirdly enough, Neko is nowhere to be seen when they were laying on the couch seconds before Father knocked.

“First things first,” Father begins after a moment. “I will have you take this test. If you pass we will discuss the cram school and if you don’t we will still be having a little  _ chat _ .” That said Father hands me a packet of papers (the test) and a pencil. He then gives the mandatory test speech. 

“You have three hours to finish this test that includes the main subjects covered at True Cross. You are only to have a pencil and eraser. A calculator will not be needed for the math portion as it tests concepts rather than application. If you finish before time is called hand me your test and I will immediately grade it. 

“Your three hours begin… Now,” with that, the click of a timer resounds in my head as grab my pencil and open the packet. (Why would the Demon King of Time need a timer?)

* * *

I was just finishing checking my answers when I heard Father say that my three hours were up (the timer ticks fade). I hand him the packet, and Father pulls a red pen out of nowhere then starts going over my answers. Nothing to do but wait for the final verdict. 

While Father was focused on my test I figured I would amuse myself by silently playing with the coaltar floating about. Gently grabbing one out of air near me I let the small demon sit on my palm. Lightly and gently my hand moves up and down so that the coaltar bounces. After a few bounces the coaltar starts to jump on my palm so that it goes higher. The antics of the tiny demon brings a small smile onto my face. 

It is strange to see a demon, even one of such low level, in Mitakihara. Not because I couldn’t see them before, but because of how demons and witches interacted pre-Madoka. That is to say, they didn’t. Demons, particularly low-level ones, would avoid areas that had a high concentration of witches while witches would avoid areas that high-level demons claimed as their territory. Mitakihara’s low demon population could have played a role in Father placing me here. Interestingly, even without witches there doesn’t appear to be many demons living in Mitakihara. Perhaps the new enemy plays a role in that, but I’m more likely to say that the Incubators are the leading cause. 

However, playtime and reflection is over when Father clears his throat to get my attention. The red pen is gone when I look up, and I couldn’t see my score because of how Father held the packet. 

“Mistakes were made here and there,” Father says as he hands me my test. “However, you have still met the requirements needed to jump ahead and enroll early. Fantastic performance dear,” he finishes with a shark like grin. Despite his predatory look I can tell that he’s proud of, or amused by, me since the grin doesn’t hold any tension that indicate it being forced. 

82 are the numbers at the top, and the bubble of pride in my chest feels like it was well earned. This is something that shows that I went through that hell. A small inconsistency that contradicts how I was before everything. From being behind due to my hospitalization to jumping straight to high school. 

**_“Now, why don’t we discuss your sudden interest in becoming an exorcist?”_ **

.

.

.


	2. The First Steps Are Taken

**_“Now, why don’t we discuss your sudden interest in becoming an exorcist?”_ **

Whatever amount of amusement and good cheer he had from earlier is gone with that question, despite his smile never leaving his face. His eyes are sharp, analyzing my every movement. My body language has likely become guarded at the multitude of questions hidden within. I don’t want to tell Father my reasons for wanting to be an exorcist. They are too deeply tied into what I went through, and I refuse to face his reaction to everything. (Deep down I’m scared. Scared that he will be disappointed in me…) 

However, I cannot lie. He, of all people, will know all of my tells. I may have become a better liar over the loops, but no amount of experience will let me pull the wool over his eyes. I also can’t avoid answering. Father is more stubborn than me, and I redid a month’s worth of time over and over again to save one girl (I didn’t want any of them to get hurt, but I always failed them). He will not leave me alone until I tell him, or he somehow found out on his own (which I have no doubt that he somehow could). 

That leaves lying by omission. It’s not a perfect solution, but it will sate Father’s curiosity for a time. That is, if I can do it without giving away just  _ how much _ I’m omitting. 

Taking a deep breath I let some of my buried distress leak through. 

“I want to become an exorcist because of someone I met…” Not a lie. I do want to do this because of Madoka. 

“Oh?” Father obviously wasn’t expecting that answer. “What about this person convinced you to join my cram school?”

“She saved me,” it’s a whisper. Louder, I continue. “She saved me and many others. She died saving a lot of people from darkness. I want…” I trail off.  _ I want… _

“Revenge for this sweet martyr of yours?” 

“No!” It’s not so much a yell as a forced exhale carrying my denial. I clenched my jaw to stop anything else from spewing out. 

My denial isn’t really true, and it came out much too quickly for Father to think that it was. I would love to get revenge on the Incubator for starting this whole mess, but Madoka wouldn’t want me spending my life like that. That thought is where my denial of revenge came from. 

“I want,” I continue, my voice strained, “to be stronger. To be able to help myself and others. To…”  _ be someone  _ **_she_ ** _ can be proud of.  _

Luckily, Father didn’t seem to want to push me any farther. Likely because I was shaking and my breathing was coming faster than normal. Before my surgery (and possible divine intervention) I would more often than not get attacks when in such a state. It effectively put a temporary stop to arguments or discussions. 

Father came closer, putting his hand on my back and rubbing it gently. The comforting gesture was sudden and felt oddly foreign. Just like that I broke down and began to cry. Unlike at the hospital where I was sobbing, barely restraining myself to be quiet enough so that no one heard me, my tears fell with the only sound from me being my breath hitching every now and again. Father pulled me closer as I cried so that my face was on his chest while he hugged me with one arm. 

* * *

“How are you feeling?” Father asks after my tears stop. 

From most parents that question would be asking if I was emotionally okay. From my father it asked if my heart was giving me any trouble. I can’t fault him for not asking after my emotional well-being. He may have been on Assiah for a very long time, but on a fundamental level he simply couldn’t understand human emotions to their fullest extent. He ties though. He has always tried to be my father in more than name. Especially after my mother died when I was young.

Regardless, the question of my health is more important in my case because, once upon a time (before soul gems and grief seeds), such an explosion of emotion could have sent me to the hospital for, at best, observation or, at worst, cardiac arrest. 

I breath slowly in my nose and out my mouth as I clean my glasses before I answer him. 

“I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt,” I say as I replace my glasses onto my face.

Father studies my face for any hint of discomfort or a lie, and when he doesn’t find any he gives a cartoony exaggerated whistle before saying, “That surgery must have done more good than I thought it would! This bodes well for getting you in fighting shape for cram school.”

“Does that mean...?” I can’t finish the sentence; much like how I can’t stop some hopeful optimism from leaking into my voice and mind (it’s been so long since I have let myself feel hope for something so small. It’s nice...).

“Most certainly my little Mäuschen!” he says as he stands up. “Welcome! To the world of exorcists!” he throws his arms out like a ringmaster of a circus with a wide smile on his face.

“Now,” he says, putting his dramatics to the side, “you should skedaddle and grab your essentials. Everything else will be picked up later.”

With a nod, I get up from the couch and grab the duffle bag and suitcase I packed earlier from the bedroom. In a few minutes I’m back in the living room with Father and, despite my insistence that I can do it, he takes my suitcase from me. In no time the door is locked behind us and my chance to turn back is gone (not that I wanted to. I have had enough of turning back).

One of Father’s (demon) servants takes my luggage from us to put into the trunk of the white limo I’m sure wasn’t there when Father first arrived. While the luggage is being put up Father opens the door and gestures for me to get in. It’s while I’m getting in that a gray blur tackles my back. It’s when it climbs onto my shoulder and gives a loud meow in my ear that I realize that Neko decided they didn’t want me to leave without them.

Heaving a sigh, I turn to Father and ask, “Can I keep them?” with my head tilted toward the mischievous cat.

Father has a weirdly serious expression on his face for a second before it’s replaced with false cheer. “I don’t see why not! I’ve also heard pets are good for humans who are recovering from various ailments!” With that resolved, we quickly settle into the limo across from each other. Neko decides to hop off my shoulder and laze about on the ground, curling against my feet. It’s not but a few moments later when the limo begins to move. 

My journey to become an exorcist has begun.

* * *

Halfway through the trip to True Cross Campus Town is when Father asks me, “Have you given any thought to your meister little Mäuschen?”

I have given much thought to this question. The meister an exorcist chooses defines the strategies and fighting styles that the exorcist has access to. However, the meister can also be a limiting force. That is why most Arias often multiclass as either Dragoons or Knights. Arias are often put in the most danger due to their sitting duck-like positions. They are open to attacks (from both friend and foe) as their focus has to be on the fatal verse they are speaking. Fatal verses will be essential to learn, but I don’t want it as my specialization. The same principal is given to the Doctor meister. Good to know, but not a good focus for me. The Knight meister is a different issue. Simply put, in a deadlock most demons could easily overpower me. Even when I become stronger, I doubt I would I be a good match to go head to head with a demon at close range. That’s another issue, I’m not used to close combat. 

That leaves two meisters, and between those two the best meister for me would be…

“Dragoon. I want to meister in Dragoon.”

I have experience with guns; a lot of experience with a lot of different guns (and a truck or two). I know how they work as a tool and how I can make them work for me. I can fight at all kinds of different ranges and the probability of me having to attempt to overpower a demon is lower than the other meisters. The only factors I will really need to account for are: how recoil will affect me without magical assistance and that I can no longer rely on my time powers to get the perfect shot. I’m going to have to practice hitting moving targets when we reach True Cross.

“Hm, yes, I can see how that could work for you. But, what about a double meister with Tamer?” Father has a sharp smile on his face when he suggests this. There is something in this suggestion that amuses him, but no matter how I turn the question in my head I can’t find anything that would cause his amusement. Perhaps it’s simply the thought of a half demon (even one who hasn’t shown any demon characteristics) summoning other demons to fight demons? 

Regardless, his question has some merit. Any demon I would summon as a Tamer would follow my commands and have my back unless given incentive to attack me (unlike human teammates, one can never if, or when, a human will turn). I could also count on them helping me as long as my will remained strong. With my history of disregarding negative emotions it is unlikely that I would lose control. Even in the case where I do lose my will, summoned demons have the easily exploitable weakness of tearing their summoning paper. However, there is the issue that you either have the potential to be a Tamer or you don’t.

“There’s normally a class where Pages attempt to summon a demon like a Tamer, yes? If I can summon a demon then, I will meister as a Tamer as well as a Dragoon.” 

“You will certainly be a force to be reckoned with should you accomplish your goal,” he leans back in his seat, something (pride?) shining in his eyes.

* * *

Soon enough True Cross Campus Town is in view. The mountain like structure of the cobbled together city contrasts against my memories of Mitakihara and Tokyo with their flat, industrial looks. The only dimension of the cities coming from the different towers that block out the sky. I had forgotten how chaotic True Cross appeared from afar. This endeavor will certainly be a drastic change in scenery (it feels like a breath of fresh air). 

Nostalgia floods me as my eyes drink in the sight that I had nearly all but faded in my mind.Memories play like old and battered film in my head as the limo drives though the campus town. Memories of a child, young and naive (free of pain), running around, playing and doing menial errands, in this town that feels foreign (but oh-so familiar).

“Welcome home, little Mäuschen,” Father says as the limo stops outside of his mansion. 

A small smile graces my face as I think,

**_I’m home._ **


	3. Earnest Iris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Homura is has reached True Cross and is working toward her goal. However, as any child knows, you have to balance work with play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hnng Shiemi is frickin' adorable to write.  
> Chapter title is based off of how the iris can mean hope, cherished friendship, and valor in the language of flowers. Which fit both Shiemi and Homura and also how I want to develop them. The iris also has some irony in regards to Shiemi.  
> This chapter was supposed to cover everything until around the first day of cram school, but where it ends now and where the next chapter begins is a bit of a mood whiplash. Due to that this chapter is shorter than I originally wanted, but it still stands on its own.  
> BTW if anyone was wondering, mäuschen is a German nickname that basically translates to "mouse". But don't quote me. I am not German and don't know the language. If I'm wrong then I very much want to be corrected. So Mephisto is basically calling Homura "Little Mouse" as a nickname. Which would fit her pre-Madoka series, but not so much "now". I have plans for it though. Don't worry.  
> Lastly! Big ol' thank you to kino for your wonderful comments. They have helped me regain the fire I thought had faded for this idea.

**_I’m home._ **

* * *

It’s been three days since then, and I thoroughly miss the physical advantages given by being a magical girl (not much of anything else though). The majority of the past few days has been a combination of; running, as well as other low intensity workouts; reading books on demons, their weakness and/or fatal verses; and various other things related to exorcist practices. There have been two separate occasions where I’ve accidentally worked past my limit because I no longer know my limit. Luckily, my heart hasn’t given any indication of giving me trouble, and I’m positive that I am in a better place physically than I was in the very beginning of the timelines. I’ve also gotten progressively stronger and faster each day (little by little, but progress is progress).

During a break in this cycle of working out and reading for lunch is when Father comes to me for a favor. In a whirlwind of talking, where he laments how busy he is with his cursed paperwork and  _ “oh won’t you be a dear?”,  _ he hands me an anime themed wallet of money, two slips of paper, and a key before he’s off to who-knows-where. One of the slips of paper has a list; for some reason he needs some things from the local exorcist supplies store. The other slip is an officiated paper detailing how I have temporary authorization to be buying these items on behalf of an exorcist despite not being one myself. The key must transport me either near or into the store. 

Father’s keys have always interested me since I was a child. Back then, they interested me because of the novelty of transporting to anyplace in the world by simply turning a key in a door. Now, these keys interest me because of the magic I can feel on them. 

Fundamentally, they function so differently from my shield. Warping space to shorten the distance between two places, contrasted by my shield which simply held a pocket dimension that I used to store my weapons and other things. The two magical items couldn’t be more different, but the magic I sense from the key in my hand is so reminiscent from my shield that, if I wasn’t looking, I would say the key was my shield. 

I’m left feeling a tinge of (regret? Sorrow? Rage?)  _ something _ for my lost magic. My magic had become such an essential part of me that it feels as though part of my being has been taken (locked away) from me. Which is a ridiculous notion because my soul was essentially taken from me to create my magic in the first place.

That train of thought effectively shut down (for now) I take a shower and plan something quick to eat. After all, Father never said that this needed to be completed immediately, and I don’t want to go somewhere unknown covered in sweat. 

* * *

A little over an hour later I’m standing on a bridge in one of the higher areas of True Cross. Looking around I don’t see any entrances or exists except for the door that opened for the key. The lack of entrances makes sense when I think of how a store carrying supplies for exorcists wouldn’t need to accessible by the general population of True Cross. However, I can’t help but think of how the only getaway is easily blocked or destroyed. Thoroughly paranoid, I quickly cross the bridge to the only building on this platform. 

It’s quick and simple enough to hand the list and authorization paper to the older woman at the front of the store and get what Father wanted. The store itself is cluttered with all kinds of items: all kinds of herbs, holy water, bullets, books, and more that I can’t see from where I’m standing. It feels like a chaotically ordered home as much as it appears like a shop for stocking those who combat demons. The shop owner herself is very kind. She is a plump older woman wearing a purple kimono and a red shawl with her long brown hair put in a loose bun. She introduces herself as Moriyama. As soon as Moriyama saw the signature of who had authorized me to buy her wares she heaved a sigh and then gave me a comforting smile before going to gather all the items on the list. A few minutes later everything is paid for and she’s handing me a large paper bag. A quick goodbye later and I’m out the door. 

It’s outside of the store, while enjoying the fresh air from so high up, that I fleetingly feel something that vividly reminds me of a Witch’s Curse. There one moment, gone the next. The feeling startles me enough that I turn and see some stairs that I hadn’t noticed while going into the supply store. As much as I would like to ignore the feeling, metaphorical years of trusting my instincts had me quietly climbing the stairs to assess the possible threat.

At the end of the stairs is a gate that has some kind of protection built into it, and beyond the gate lies a garden. The sight is so pretty that I can’t stop my hand from reaching up to touch the gate. Only to, as soon as my fingertips makes contact with the gate, gasp due to a mild shock running through my body. My gasp startles a girl around my age to straighten up from where she was sitting, tending to a flowerbed, and look around for the source. Once she sees me she turns bright red and starts saying something while flailing her arms about, but I can’t tell what she was saying due to her constant false starts and stuttering. 

“Are you okay?” comes out of my mouth, unbidden, and effectively curtails whatever the girl was trying to say. The question startles me as much as, if not more than, the other girl.

However, the question seems to have given her some confidence. The red fades from her face and her arms lower.

“I-I’m fi-fine!” 

“That’s good,” I say somewhat stiltedly. For lack of anything else I add, “This is a very pretty garden.” (has normal interaction always been so hard?) Her face lights up at the words and she gives a large, excited smile. She climbs to her feet with some difficulty, almost falling over, and stumbles to the gate. 

Soon, she’s in front of me with only the protective gate separating us, and I can clearly see her earnest green eyes sparkle as she says, “Do you really think so?” 

For some reason her earnestness flusters me and my eyes dart from her round face to her colorful kimono to the garden and back in an endless loop. 

“Um- ye-yes. It’s obviously very lovingly cared for.”

“Do you want to help?” 

Her question startles me, and now it’s my turn to wave my free arm and turn red. “What? B-but I don’t know anything about gardening!”

“It’s alright, it’s not that difficult! I can teach you!” Just like that, the blonde girl opens the gate and drags me into the garden by my free hand. “My name’s Shiemi Moriyama! What’s yours?”

“Homu-Homura Akemi.”

* * *

I leave the platform significantly dirtier than when I arrived. 

I had fun learning how to garden from that girl, Shiemi, and, despite what she said, gardening is quite a lot of hard work. I definitely have more respect for her and anyone else who gardens. Before I knew it my walls were lowered against her earnest assault. Shiemi is a kind and earnest, if shy, girl and it’s clear that she enjoys taking care of her garden. That she allowed into her little sanctuary simply because I expressed my admiration for her work warms me. When the sun started to lower, and I had to leave, I ended up promising to visit her again in the next few days (I’m looking forward to it). 

When I get home I put the big bag of exorcist supplies and anime wallet down before immediately heading to the shower for the second time today. Once clean, and dressed in my most comfortable oversized hoodie and shorts, I go straight to the family room where I find Father, wearing a yukata, eating ramen and watching some kind of anime. He spots me immediately and gestures for me to sit next to him, and when I am he pulls another bowl of steaming ramen out of nowhere which he hands to me. Now settled, Neko appears from seemingly nowhere and curls next to my leg, stealing a few noodles when they can. That’s how we spend the next bit of time: eating ramen and watching an anime about an orange haired boy with a giant sword (luckily, it’s not about magical girls).

“I have a gift for you little Mäuschen,” Father says a while after the ramen had been eaten and the anime was on commercial break.

“Oh? A gift?” is all I can say due to shock. I wasn’t expecting Father to give me anything more than what he already has by giving me this opportunity. After all, demons aren’t known for their generosity. 

“Yes, I know you said that you wanted to meister as a Dragoon,” here he pauses to hand me a gaudy pink bag covered in sparkles, but luckily not glitter, “but to do that you will need to know how to use weapons like this one here. Won’t you?”

Inside of the bag is a handgun. Specifically, a  beretta 92FS. It’s a firearm that I always found reliable at both medium and short range, and I always had one ready in my shield. Although, unlike a standard beretta, which is black, this one is dark purple with silver accents (fitting). Also in the bad is a holster for the gun, a few rounds of ammo, and another key that likely leads to some kind of shooting range.

“Now Homura,” when I look up from the gun his grin is still there, but there is a stern edge to it, “I’m trusting you to be responsible with that. Don’t let my trust be misplaced.”

I look him directly in the eyes as I straighten up and say, “Understood!”

The sharp edge fades and he pats my head a few times. “I knew I could trust you little  Mäuschen~” just like that another episode of the anime starts and the pink bag is put to the side while I spend time in comfortable silence with my Father.

“NOOOO~! You idiotic strawberry! That isn’t *unintelligible mutters*” Okay, so not silence, but it’s still a comfortable moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone wants, they can follow me on tumblr at [sassysleeper](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sassysleeper)


	4. The Clock Begins to Tick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue flames awaken and the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alt chapter titles: (1) The Greek Family Tree Has Nothing on the Demon Hierarchy and (2) Homura Deserves All The Hugs
> 
> Trigger Warning! The italics in the beginning has some graphic depictions of violence and character death of the PMMM girls. It's only in the last few lines at the end of the first paragraph starting after the words "connected to a giant gear by a pole, that mockingly laughs as I glare at it from where I sit;". Stay safe and sane y'all!

_The buildings lay in ruins all around me remain as the only remnants of Mitakihara. The being responsible for the destruction floats high in the air above the, once whole and undamaged, city. The being is reminiscent of a gigantic figure of a woman, upside down and connected to a giant gear by a pole. The being mockingly laughs as I glare at it from where I sit; surrounded by the cold bodies of those I once held dear (and gave up on). Hundreds of Mamis, Sayakas, and Kyōkos with various injuries lay all over the ruins of Mitakihara. Some don’t have any wounds, having turned into witches or gotten their soul gems shattered ; some are missing various body parts, Mami without a head and Sayaka ripped into pieces; others still are nothing but ashes or bloody stains on the cracked concrete._

_With another mocking laugh the giant figure summons endless black silhouettes of many different magical girls that rush toward me. Despite all of my attempts to either move away from the attack or get into a defensive position, I can’t. I’m stuck kneeling on the ground unable to twitch a single muscle. But, seconds before the sea of despair filled silhouettes reach me, they dissolve into pink lights as they are hit with a folly of arrows that rain from a, similarly pink, magic symbol high in the sky. Soon the giant figure suffers the same fate and lets out a final wail as it falls apart._

_Soothing pink light fills the sky in a comforting warmth, bringing with it the smell of roses. However, the pink is quickly overtaken by despairing black as something worse than the giant figure is born. Only for that being of despair, as well as the whole world with it, to be burned away by_ **_bright blue fire._ **

* * *

I’m jolted awake by a sense of **_badbadbadwrongwrongwrongBURNING_ ** . When I get my bearings I’m on the couch with my hair sticking to my face, glasses crooked, and the phantom feeling of fire still on my skin. Neko is on the floor in front of the couch, and therefore me, with their hackles raised in a defensive position despite their visible shaking. I pick them up with my own shaking hands and stand up, looking around the room with Neko cuddling into me for comfort (mine or theirs, I can’t tell). I quickly spot Father’s silhouette in front of the giant window at the other end of the room. There’s nothing that can be seen from the window, but it doesn’t matter because, regardless if I can’t _see_ it, I can _feel_ that the horrible heat originates in that direction.

“Dad?” I can’t stop the fear from appearing in my voice. Not with the overwhelming heat and _wrongness_ that is both _here_ but _not,_ everywhere and nowhere, lingering in the air (worse than Walpurgisnacht, worse than Kriemhild Gretchen). 

When he turns to me I can’t help the way that I run and hide in his arms. It doesn’t matter that I’m closer to the window, and therefore the heat, because I wouldn’t feel safe from it even if the whole Earth separated me from it. However, in Father’s arms, I can feel my shaking lightening. I feel protected.

“Don’t worry little Mäuschen, he won’t waste what little time he has coming here.” His words ring true, and my fear slightly abates in the face of his logic. 

A few moments, that feel like eons, later the heat is temporarily smothered before it flares one final time and goes out (not gone, just somewhere else far away). Then, similar to a supernova, a heat that is similar, but fundamentally different (a hearth as opposed to a forest fire), fans out from where the original went out. This heat quickly fades into the background; not gone, but not something to fear either.

“Go back to bed little Mäuschen. I doubt anymore excitement will happen tonight.” 

Even if I wanted to argue, and I don’t, I couldn’t. I don’t know what all of this means, but whatever has happened has left me mentally and emotionally exhausted. So, instead of demanding answers like I normally would, I head to my room while still holding Neko close. The comforting smell of pink roses lingers in the absence of the burning blue heat.

* * *

Despite my intentions to sleep until late into the day, preferably late noon, I only end up fitfully sleeping until sunrise. Once I open my eyes to my room being bathed in the first light of day I knew that I wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore. So, instead of dwelling on what happened a few hours ago; I get ready for the day, grab my new beretta and ammo, and use my new key which transports me to a shooting range just like I thought it did.

That’s how I spend the next few hours, shooting moving targets that get progressively faster the longer I continue. Quickly, the repetitive motions of target - aim - shoot - target - aim - shoot - reload - target - aim - shoot puts me into a daze that allows me to block anything that isn’t about hitting the target. Even my hands seem to be nothing more than blurs in this state. Normally such tunnel vision is bad, and I definitely don’t want to make it a habit, but right then I didn’t really care. I just wanted to distract myself from the terror that still clung to me. 

I don’t stop until I run out of ammo. By that time I had been consistently hitting even the fastest targets of the intermediate level, and my breath is coming out in quick pants as I exit from my single minded daze. I feel significantly more clear minded than I did that morning, and the feel of that overpowering heat no longer lingers on my skin and in my lungs. I place my gun in the holster and go about picking up the spent ammo cartridges that litter the ground around me.

I leave the shooting range centered and calm in a way I wasn’t when I entered.

* * *

When I entered the dining room with a plate of omurice I wasn’t expecting to see Father, but there he is; sitting at the table and staring at his phone with, what I can only describe as, sorrow. I hesitate at the door. For once, it doesn’t appear that he notices that there is someone in the room with him at all; he’s so absorbed in thought. I can’t fathom what could have caused this change of mood in someone who has always seemed indestructible.

Tentatively, I walk to the table and take a seat next to him. My plate is set down, and then quickly forgotten as I focus all of my attention on my father. He still hasn’t looked away from his phone; it’s as if he’s willing whatever’s on it to disappear, or as if he can’t bring himself to believe what it displays. Maybe it’s a combination of both… My hand reaches out; but before I can touch him, Father turns toward me as if just noticing me. The look in his eyes has me stopping short and withdrawing my hand. He’s eyes scream “loss” even though he’s smiling, and even his ever-present smile has lost the amusement that is typically always present.

“Ah, Homura. I didn’t see you there. Did you need something?”

“W-well, I was wondering,” I want to ask if he’s okay. Ask what happened to make him so destitute, but I know he would deny anything being wrong if I voiced my questions. So instead, I ask the first thing that comes to mind, “ wh-what was that last night?” 

His smile falters for a second and I immediately know that I would have been better off sticking my foot in my mouth. “It would seem that Father dearest decided to pay one of my half-brothers a visit. The one that inherited his fire; you would remember him as Rin Okumura. The oldest of the twins that the Paladin took care of.”

“Father Fujimoto?” I vaguely remember spending a Christmas-Birthday fusion or two at a monastery when I was younger, and before my heat condition had made itself known. 

A kind, if goofy, old man with glasses and short white hair appears in those vague memories along with a set of twins who are around two years older than me. One of the boys has brown hair and wears glasses that are too big for his face; Father Fujimoto introduced him as Yukio Okumura. Yukio was sickly back them, much like I was, but his health got better in time while mine steadily declined. I remember that he could see demons, like me, even though his brother couldn’t. The older twin, Rin Okumura, has black hair, bright blue eyes, and bandages covering his arms with one or two on his face. Despite his abrasive appearance, Rin was very kind when talking to me. Maybe it was because of how similar Yukio and I were back then. One vivid memory that includes Rin is of how he made me some food to cheer me up and how good it tasted.

When I was older, Father told me that they were Satan’s sons. He told me that Father Fujimoto and him had found them as well as how, instead of killing the both of them or the one with Satan’s flames, they decided to seal the demonic side of the oldest. Though, it shocked me more to learn that I was related to them. I wasn’t expecting to meet any relatives, especially from my father’s side, that were around my age, and I was looking forward to getting to know them as family. Unfortunately, that was around the time my health started getting worse and I began going to hospitals, and later schools, that were farther from True Cross and my family.

It’s been years, even without the time loop, since I last saw them. A small goodbye party before I went to that boarding school in Tokyo. I wonder how much they have changed, and if they even remember me.

“Yes,” Father confirmed. “Shiro was possessed by Satan and died to stop him from taking Rin to Gehenna,” he sighs heavily. “I’ve already been ordered to give Rin an ultimatum: die now or run and die later. However, I have a feeling that a new option will appear for him when we meet,” his sharp smile when his says this tells me that it’s more than just a feeling that Father is going off of. I don’t have to worry about Rin’s safety; not yet at least.

“Shiro’s funeral is in five days,” I have no response but to blink at what seems like a non sequitur. “I assume you’ll want to go?” 

“Of course!” Father Fujimoto was like another father to me. Of course I’d want to see him off. 

“Be at the entrance at seven sharp,” he stands up without waiting for a response. “I’ll be busy with some preparations in the meantime, so don’t be surprised if I’m not around as often.

“Bis dann, little Mäuschen.” With that, he’s out the door and I’m left alone with my cold omurice (I mechanically eat it as the phrase “don’t waste food!” echoes in my head). 

* * *

Just like Father said, I don’t see him in the interiming days before the funeral. The days pass with distracted training and halfhearted studying. The individual days pass slowly even though they seem to be over in the blink of an eye. I have become hyper aware of how much time is left until I meet Father. It’s as if there is a clock in my head counting down. Likely, the countdown is simply because of how prominently **time** has featured in my life. Regardless, it’s making the wait unbearable. 

Two days (and nineteen hours) before the funeral I’m thrown out of my distracted daze. I had gone to visit Shiemi and help with her gardening like I promised, but she seemed to realize something was wrong immediately. So, when she asked me if something had happened with that honest open look in her eyes, which reminds me so much of Madoka, I told her the truth. That someone I view as family had passed away recently.

Shiemi startles me when, immediately after I’m done speaking, she hugs me with enough force that we fall to the, luckily very soft, ground. Then she confides in me about her grandmother. About how she feels at fault for her death and that she’s trying to make up for it by taking care of her grandmother’s garden. She talks about how kind and caring her grandmother was, and that opens the floodgates for me. I tell her about Father Fujimoto and how accepting he was. About how he treated me like part of his family. About how he always tried to be there after a tough surgery; even if it was just a phone call when I started being hospitalized farther away. He did his best. I find myself telling her things that were all but erased from my memories barely a week ago, but that are becoming clearer the more I speak and reminisce. And that’s how we spend most of the day, telling each other stories about family that was no longer physically there but still managed to influence us.

Before I leave for the day I help Shiemi inside because her legs were giving her some trouble, and I tell her that it will probably be a while before I can visit again.

“That’s alright,” she says. “School’s starting really soon, and you want to be an exorcist right? That means your going to be working really hard! Do your best! I’m cheering you on!” She then gives me another, less intense, hug.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my arms tentatively coming up to return her hug. “I’ll come back and help with your garden as soon as things calm down. I promise.”

* * *

Seven minutes… My mental clock continues its countdown even as I stand in the entrance of Father’s mansion in a knee-length black dress. The chest of it mimics a white blouse and I wear a small black shawl that ties in a bow at my collar. Three minutes… Two minutes… One minute…

. . .

“Are you ready to go?” Father appears in the entrance with none of his typical fanfare and, after I answer with an affirmative, uses a key that transports us close to the monastery.

We stay in the back and out of sight for the entire funeral, but through the small crowd of people I could swear that I see white next to pink. However, when I move to look at it directly I don’t find anything. 

The only time Father moves during the funeral is to pull up his umbrella when it starts to rain. Once it’s over though, he pulls a fake smile onto his face and says, “I’m going to have a little chat with Rin soon. In the meantime, why don’t you catch up with little Yukio?”

“Your sure that you won’t have to hurt him?” Despite the fact that I couldn’t stop him if I tried, there’s still a threat in my voice.

“Oh,” his smile becomes sharper and more real. “I’m more than sure.”

I stare at him for a few seconds, “Alright.” With that I turn on my heel and head toward where I last saw Yukio. He may have grown a lot, but I could still pick him out by his glasses and moles.

“Yuki-ji!” I call out when I spot him, and he turns around at the sound of the old nickname. I had started calling him that after Father told me about how they were related to us. He told me when I was eight, and at that age I didn’t question the fact that Rin and Yukio were my uncles. As such, I started to refer to them using -ji as an abbreviation of “oji”. When I first started doing it, Rin told me he preferred me just using his name so I stopped using -ji with him. However, Yukio never complained so I got used to referring to as “Yuki-ji”. I’m not sure if Yukio really understands what I mean when I call him that, or if he just filed it away as a weird nickname. 

“Homura?” he asks when he turns at my call. “Is that really you? It’s been so long!” His pleasant smile is forced. I can’t blame him.

“Yes, it has. You don’t have to force yourself to smile though.”

“Ah, sorry,” the forced smile falls. “How are you doing? You recently got out of a big surgery didn’t you?”

“I did, and I’m a lot better. In fact, I’m going to True Cross this year.” 

“The middle school is far from Campus Town proper though, isn’t it?” he’s asking where I’ll be staying for the school year, but he doesn’t know…

“I’m actually going to the highschool,” the look of bewildered shock on his face is something I will cherish.

“A-ah, you must have worked very hard!” I’m glad, he’s so busy being flustered that he’s no longer wallowing. It may not be deadly to him, but I still didn’t like the look of despair on his face.

I give a small hum, “I’m also going to be joining the cram school,” this statement is a test. Father may not have said it, but he dropped enough hints that I’m pretty sure that Yukio is either an exorcist in training or a certified exorcist. Still, doesn’t hurt to be safe in the case that I’m wrong.

“Wh-what?! Will your heart be able to take that kind of strain?” test passed. He knows what I’m talking about.

“Don’t worry Yuki-ji,” I say with a small smile. “I’ve been training since the surgery to build up my strength, and there have been no complications since.”

“If you’re sure…” he says uncertainly, glancing at everything but me. Then, his gaze catches on something, “I’m sorry, but I have to go,” and just like that he’s gone without even waiting for a reply.

Moments later I hear, “HomuHomu! That you?” 

I turn toward the call and see a teen with black hair and familiar bright blue eyes.

“Rin,” I say in greeting.

“I knew I recognized those red glasses,” his smile is a little strained, but true. He’s sad, but not despairing. In fact, his eyes are full of determination and **hope**.

“But ya’ know,” he continues with a small laugh, “even after all these years you’re still the same pipsqueak.” He than pats my head patronizingly.

“Hey!” I half heartedly swat at him.

“You are lookin’ better though. A lot more healthy,” he says with seriousness. “The old man would be happy. He was really upset he couldn’t see ya’ after your last surgery. Said you seemed really scared ‘bout it when he called you.”

“Yeah…” I say. “A lot could have gone wrong. But his calls before and after it really helped to calm me.” We stay in silence for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” I say, “that you had to find out like this…”

“Find out?” he asks in confusion. “Does that mean you know?!”

I nod, “I’ve known for a long time.”

“What?! Who told you? Was it the old man?” he panics.

“No, Father did. And you don’t need to panic. I’m like you; half-demon.”

“You are? Wait…” Rin visibly mentally back tracks. “Who _is_ your dad? You’ve always talked ‘bout him, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him.”

“I suppose you haven’t…” I mumble, thinking back and realizing that Father was never around when Rin or Yukio was. “Father goes by Me-” I’m cut off by the sound of an anime opening. “Sorry, give me a moment,” I say as dig my phone out of my dress’ pocket. I didn’t even grabbed it this morning. Father really doesn’t want me telling Rin that he’s my dad for some reason.

“Hello,” I answer without looking at the contact information. 

“ _Little Mäuschen!_ ” Father replies, just like I thought. “ _Visiting time is over now. Say your goodbyes then meet me a block away and we’ll go home_ ,” and he hangs up.

“Alright then,” I huff out to the dead line. “Sorry,” I direct to Rin, “I have to go now.”

“It’s alright,” he waves his hand. “We’ll catch up more some other time! Maybe Yukio can set some kind of meeting up if you’re going back to living in Campus Town!” he gets excited at the thought, but the mention of Yukio and Campus Town makes something click in my mind.

“Yeah,” I sigh, looking to the side. Becoming lost in thought as my mind becomes caught on the fact that Rin will be viewed as public enemy number one by the True Cross Order, and both Father and Yukio are part of the Order... I can’t let him get hurt; he’s my family, but so is Father and Yukio. I can’t let Rin get hurt, but I can’t hurt Father or Yukio either... I’m roughly brought back to the present as Rin pulls me into a hug.

“See you later Rin,” I whisper into his chest.

“Later, HomuHomu,” and then I’m released.

A few waves goodbye later and I’m walking toward the end of the block. Quickly, I spot Father’s white outfit and pink umbrella.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Father aks teasingly, seemingly out of his melancholic mood.

“Yes,” I say. Despite the reason we originally came here for, I enjoyed getting to see Rin and Yukio again. Even if I’m sad that the same could not be possible with Father Fujimoto. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen or heard them, but it doesn't seem like they've changed too much.” 

Father is quiet for a while after I say it, and when I glance at him he’s wearing a calculative expression for a split second before it turns into his usual smile. 

“Is that so?” he hums. I don’t respond. I’m thrown off balance from the expression he was wearing. Did I say something wrong? Suspicious? Or was he just lost in thought?

“Ah!” I’m shocked out of my spiraling thoughts at his exclamation. “I nearly forgot! I’m going to be picking the boys up tomorrow, will you be fine getting to the matriculation ceremony on your own?”

“Boys?” I question, ignoring his question. He gave me keys that lead to areas all over the academy. He knows I’ll be fine.

“Well, yes. Rin wants to be an exorcist so he will have to attend True Cross Academy. I’m also going to be acting as their guardian while they attend.”

I stare at him hard, “You’re betting the Grigori will prefer Rin as a weapon as opposed to an enemy, aren’t you?”

“You know me so well~” He then puts his silly facade to the side. “But trust me when I say that I will do everything in my power to keep him safe from both sides.”

My hard stare softens, “Of course I trust you. I just don’t want my family to be used or hurt.”

He lets me cling to him as he says, “I know little Mäuschen... But on the topic of trust,” I look up at him. “I need you to trust me when I say that it’s to your benefit to keep your relation to me a secret.”

“Alright,” I murmur. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Good,” he nods. “Now that that is settled, why don’t you answer my question?”

It takes me a moment to realize what he’s talking about, but when I do I say, “I’ll be fine on my own.”

Father nods and hums in approval, “Get some rest now little Mäuschen. You’ll need it for tomorrow.”

I go to bed apprehensive of the unknown that tomorrow will bring, but **hopeful** that everything will be okay. After all, my family will be at my side this **time**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone wants, they can follow me on tumblr at [sassysleeper](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sassysleeper)
> 
> Mäuschen - Mouse (German nickname)  
> Bis dann - Until then (German)  
> Oji - Uncle (Japanese)
> 
> If I'm wrong about any of these, please correct me. Also, according to google translate "Yuki-ji" translates into "Snow time" I found that funny but it was accidental if google translate is right.


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